


hibearnation

by translevi



Series: evil schemes & other things (madbear rights) [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, X-Ray & Vav (Cartoon)
Genre: Cuddling, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Mad King has issues, Mogar is part bear, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Trans Male Character, mad kings got some shit going on, theres fuckin MORE, yall im not done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 08:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19373320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/translevi/pseuds/translevi
Summary: There is a long stretch of silence, and Mogar's eyes shut without his permission, only to crack back open when the Mad King finally speaks.





	hibearnation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rippenstitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippenstitch/gifts).



> shows up to the xray and vav fandom 3 years late with starbucks

Gradually, as the seasons must, the warmth of summer gives way to the cool winds of autumn, and with it comes that heavy sinking feeling of hunger, and drowsiness. Mogar says nothing about it to the Mad King, after all, why would he have to? It's only natural, surely a man as smart as the king must know already.

The king says nothing when Mogar starts to eat more, scarfing down chicken and fish while vehemently avoiding anything having to do with the meat of a cow. The fact that the king says nothing only furthers Mogar's belief that he understands what's happening, and so he continues silently with his preparations, feeling the cool bite of wind in his bones.

Mogar still accompanies the king on publicity stunts, still helps him around the lab, still watches over him and Dragonface when they are together, but his behaviour starts to shift over time. He stops working out as much, just enough to keep his muscle mass, but his attention is centered elsewhere, on finding more furs to perfect the room he had come to call his den. It was a nicely sized one, as if perfectly tailored to his specific needs and interests, complete with an open area for Mother to graze and relax. Exactly what he knew to expect from the Mad King.

Any other day he would go for his bed, perched atop a platform closer to the ceiling that he would have to climb to get to, a more than welcome reminder of his old treehouse in the forest, but not today. Instead, Mogar dips under the platform, dragging bedding down and throwing about pillows and furs until he was comfortable with the setup.

This would serve him nicely.

Time passes, and though occasionally Mogar can see Mad King shoot a questioning glance his direction, Mogar does his duties, so there is nothing for the king to approach him about..

Mogar continues eating and resting, growing more and more exhausted as the winds of autumn gave way to the chill of winter.

He checks on Mother more and more as the days drag on, throwing a blanket over her back and leaning in to bump his forehead against hers. The winter in the forest had never been too hard on them, wherever there was nature, his Mother and he were guaranteed protection. In the city there was only metal and cold. Mogar is not foolish enough to think that Monarch Labs is safe, but he does know that it will protect them better than the concrete jungle could. As if sensing his worries, Mother shook her head, flicking her ears before nipping at Mogar's curls, giving a gentle but chastising tug. Mogar's lips twitched up into a smile, understanding all too well what she was saying.

_"Rest, I will be fine."_

With his duties covered, Mogar settles, and waits for a sign.

The sign comes in the form of a grand meal that the king reveals for him. "As a thank you for your efforts." He had explained, and Mogar had dug in like a wild animal. He did remember his manners halfway through his third chicken, finding the Mad King's gaze and giving him a brief nod of thanks before continuing to tear into his meal.

That night, Mogar stumbled into his room, setting his sword on its stand by the wall, before dropping to all fours and crawling into the den he had made. It wasn’t as nice as a deep cave would have been, but he can’t complain. He is full, warm, and his mother is safe. Mogar heaved a sigh, grabbing blindly for his blankets and furs before wrapping them around him, finally letting his heavy eyes close.

Finally, he could sleep.

Consciousness comes back to him slowly, only aware of a shaking sensation. The possible danger of the situation does not occur to him, and Mogar doesn't respond, as if trying to wait out the cause of distress. It doesn't go away, if anything it gets more violent, volume he can't understanding rising. Finally he hears panic in the tone, and the displeased noises of-- Mother.

Mogar jerks awake, eyes wild and wide as he lashed out, grabbing at the closest limb of whatever was shaking him only to find himself staring up into the wide eyes of the panicked king. Mogar's aggression leaves immediately, the death grip on what turned out to be the king's wrist immediately loosening. He can see a healing machine nearby, what had happened? Immediately his attention turns to his Mother. She is nearby, but not injured. The blanket Mogar had draped over her back was still in place, and she stomped her hoof on the ground angrily, blowing air out of her nose and throwing her head around. Mogar's sure the only thing preventing her from charging the king was the fact that he was so clearly concerned.

Mogar is still exhausted, and he wants to go back to sleep, but his responsibilities take priority.

"What is it, my king?"

And the king just gapes, brow furrowed as he finally let go of Mogar and leaned back onto his heels.

He had dropped to his knees, just for Mogar? Why?

"You've been asleep... for three days."

And Mogar frowns, that is why he's so tired then.

"Only three?"

That just seems to confuse the king further, truly speechless.

It is... touching, to know that the king cares for his safety so greatly. Mogar still eyed the machine warily, getting him "examined" was a battle that the king had yet to win. Unfortunately glaring at the machine won't explain the situation at hand.

Still sleepy and heavy, Mogar shifted, relaxing back into his blankets and once again curling up. Already sleep tugged at him, eager to pull him back into a comforting dreamland. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Mother give one last annoyed snort before turning and heading back towards her section of the room, leaving him to fend for himself.

"When it is cold, Mogar must eat. Winter is hard in the forest, to survive, Mogar must sleep."

It's as clear an explanation Mogar can give right now, pelt fur tickling at his nose when he inhaled.

There is a long stretch of silence, and Mogar's eyes shut without his permission, only to crack back open when the Mad King finally speaks.

"You hibernate." As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're a bear, bears hibernate."

Mogar just nods, letting out a heavy sigh as his eyes closed once more, leaving the king to ponder that in his own time.

Mogar sleeps for longer this time, much longer. Hours dragged into days, and gradually days become weeks. He knows the passage of time in the back of his mind, sitting just vaguely at the cusp of consciousness. He could wake if he wanted, but he does not, so he doesn’t.

* * *

 

The next time Mogar wakes up, it is still not spring. That ever-present fog of drowsiness still leaves him lost in the mist, but once again something is shaking him, and the scent is not nearly as familiar as the Mad King; though, not a threat. This body… this voice… it’s much smaller than the king, and certainly too small to be his mother. Distantly, Mogar considers that this is one of the most-interrupted hibernations he’s ever had, but still he pries his heavy eyelids open, blinking to adjust to the sudden light in the room.

“Mogar!” Wait. He knows that voice.

It takes effort, but Mogar pulls himself into consciousness, pupils finally focussing on the small cub badgering him. How did Dragonface get here? _Why_ is he here? Is the king not alright? Does Mogar need to get up early? So many questions raced through his mind in a moment, but instead of voicing these concerns, Mogar simply tilts his head and blinks at the cub, waiting.

Dragonface looks triumphant, finally stopping his attempts at shaking the man to beam at him. His front tooth is nearly grown in, and he’s sporting a whole new assortment of bandages on his face. Subtle changes from the last time Mogar had seen him, but he still looked like the young and over-excited cub he was a month ago.

“I’m so glad I could finally wake you up! See- Mad King has been moping for like- _ever_ because you’re asleep,” Dragonface begins, grinning before looking more thoughtful, even rolling his eyes as he explained. “So I figured y’know, ‘why not just wake Mogar up’ but he told me it was _impossible_ , but _nothing_ is impossible for Dragonface!”

Instead of immediately responding to that—though it was clear the cub was waiting for an answer—Mogar tilted his head back, sniffing at the air. The scent of the healing robot was stale, evidence that it had been some time since it had entered his domain, but unlike the machines, the scent of the Mad King was still much fresher. Had the king really been _moping?_

Mogar would like to think of something to respond to the cub with, especially so about the king, but he is too tired for all this excitement, but this is the king’s charge. Mogar cannot simply ignore him.

“You are brave to seek Mogar out,” In his domain, in the middle of hibernation. A time when he is most on edge. “But also very foolish.”

Dragonface’s expression rises and falls appropriately, and Mogar thanks the energies that Dragonface is not nearly as high-maintenance as X-Ray and Vav were. He had the patience for a cub, always. The other two however…

Fortunately, Mogar is saved from any further communication by the Mad King himself bursting into the room, frazzled and stressed looking. He seems to relax for a moment upon spotting Dragonface, before he realizes that Mogar is awake, and seems to go through a number of emotions very quickly. Mogar just watches in dry amusement as the king tries to get a handle on himself, quickly clearing his throat and smoothing out his hair, careful not to jostle his crown. Mogar has been informed of the king’s lies, he does not buy this _‘collected’_ act.

Moping, huh?

“Ah, Mogar,” The king begins, glancing down to straighten his bowtie before strolling over, hands crossed behind his back. He is ever the image of sophistication and grace, or at the very least he could pretend to be. “I apologize for this… interruption. I’m afraid I lost track of this one. Children, so very easy to lose.”

Mogar just snorts, rolling over in his furs and stretching out, his body letting out a symphony of cracking sounds as his joints uncurled for the first time in months.

“It is fine, king. He has done no harm.”

Mad King looks startled if only for a moment, eyes widening just a bit and freezing in his movement if only for a moment. It would be unnoticeable to someone else, certainly unnoticeable to the cub situated between them, but Mogar has dedicated the past year to observing the king, and he sees it.

Had it truly been so long since the king had heard Mogar speak? Did his absence truly bother the king _that_ much? Perhaps the cub had assumed wrong, surely there were plenty of other reasons for the king to be ‘moping’.

The king once again looks away, avoiding letting his gaze linger on Mogar for too long. How strange.

“Very well… Still, Dragonface and I were just _leaving._ I assure you this won’t happen again.”

And the king reaches out to grab Dragonface’s arm, and already the cub appears to be about to ‘put his foot down’ so to speak. Mogar is tired, too tired to listen to bickering from these two. When the king reaches out, Mogar intercepts him, wrapping his hand tight around the king’s wrist, feeling the other man flinch as he does so. Mad King’s gaze jerks to him, wide-eyed and slightly alarmed, and Mogar squeezes just a bit harder. Not as a threat, not yet at least.

He meets the king’s gaze evenly, steady, even as the other man’s eyes dart around like a leaf in a storm.

The king would always be like that, flighty, shaky. He was utterly turbulent, and entirely lost to the storm happening within his own mind. Mogar was steady, like a rock or a tree, his roots digging deep, _deep_ into the soil. He was respite against the king’s calamity, and if it ever became too much, the king would always be able to take shelter underneath his branches.

“Stay.” The cub was not lying, and Mogar’s tone leaves no room for discussion.

Dragonface stays silent, watching the exchange happening in front of him, slowly shifting back to sit on the furs himself.

The king’s gaze darts around wildly, hand clenched into a fist. Mogar does not look away, nor does he let go. It takes time, but they communicate wordlessly, and finally the fight slips from the king. Mogar doesn’t let go, even as the older man sinks to his knees.

If he is questioned, Mogar will blame what happens next on mid-hibernation delirium.

Mogar squeezes the king’s wrist again, and that is all the warning Mad King gets before Mogar yanks him down, pulling out a yelp of surprise as Mogar flipped them, pulling the king down onto his side before rolling over. He lets go of the king’s wrist at that point, choosing instead to throw his arm over Mad King’s waist, effectively trapping him within his grip.

All the while, Mad King cursed and thrashed, threatening to _‘skin him alive and make his meat into a Mogar Bar.'_  While Mogar appreciated the king’s brutality, he cannot see Mad King making good on his threat. At least, not right now. Instead, Mogar nuzzles his face up under the king’s chin, and Mad King goes completely still.

Mogar shifts a bit more, not quite comfortable yet, ignoring Dragonface’s soft breath of _“woah…”_ as he finally settled, face pressed against the skin of Mad King’s next, lips pressed ever so slightly against his jugular. Just enough to taste Mad King’s racing pulse on his tongue. It’s good, comfortable.

The king is still trembling when Dragonface makes his way over, stumbling over Mogar and Mad King’s intertwined legs before falling over Mogar’s side and laying on the furs at his back. Mogar can’t see the way Dragonface spreads out, but he can certainly feel the boney elbow slam into his spine—something that produces a small growl of displeasure before Dragonface finally goes still. He smells content, and that is all Mogar cares to know.

Mogar’s eyes close, but he doesn’t fall asleep, he can hold off on that for just a little longer.

It takes time, but eventually Mad King’s breath starts to slow, pulse slowly started to calm. It’s an awkward position, and certainly the most they’ve ever touched all at once, but Mogar likes it here. He likes this scent that belongs solely to the king. 

With the cub and the king settled, Mogar finally lets himself start to drift back off, head becoming heavier and heavier by the second. He’s just on the verge of sleep when he feels the king shift, before a shaking arm wraps around his side, cold fingers trailing up the back of Mogar’s neck before finally threading into the curls of his hair.

The king will be able to break out of his hold once Mogar is asleep, he’s sure of that, and when he does Mogar is sure he’ll handle the cub as well.

But Mogar does not worry about that right now, instead he simply breathes in the king’s scent, and lets everything go dark once again.


End file.
